


Moraea Tortilis

by snoqualmie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Plant Magic, Urban Magic, and lots of kissing and goofy boys, its like uhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10114661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoqualmie/pseuds/snoqualmie
Summary: Several spindly leaves curl around his fingers and hold tight. When he pulls away the plant stretches with him, growing at least a few centimeters and Tooru gapes at it.“How long have you been holding that one in?” he asks as he wiggles his fingers free. “How dramatic.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [izzsa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzsa/gifts).



> happy birthday to my better half!! this was supposed to be up yesterday but i'm a POS.  
> i love u izzy

Tooru spends three and a half hours cleaning his apartment before Iwaizumi Hajime, the most handsome boy in the world, comes over for dinner. It’s not the first time he’s coming over, but Tooru still kind of feels like he’s been thrown into a blender every time. There should be a point, somewhere. A point where the person you’re almost-sort-of-kind-of dating stops making your guts tie up into knots and stops making your heart do backflips. Tooru hasn’t reached that point with Iwaizumi yet. He has a lot to do.

He saves the bathroom for last.

Once he’s got his arms full of creeping fig and he’s _trying_ to get it to re-wrap itself around the towel rack he specifically put in there for it, the vines decide to start twisting themselves around him, leaves going dark and happy. Tooru _really_ needs to put them down because Iwaizumi is going to be there in thirty minutes and he needs to finish hiding stuff. Iwaizumi hadn’t noticed anything the last two times he’d been over, so it’s not going to happen this time.

Miki sits on the back of the toilet, watching him and not being helpful at _all._

“You know,” Tooru says pointedly. “You could help. You could do your little cat thing and help me with the living room. Or you could find something else to do besides make fun of me? Iwa-chan is coming over.”

She twitches an ear at him. It’s a clear _fuck you_ but she hops down anyway, weaving between his legs and trotting off towards the front of their small apartment.

“C’mon, guys,” Tooru whispers to the vines. “Please? Please just be normal for a little while. C’mon, look at this rack. It’s pretty and you can climb on it. Iwa-chan’s coming over, hey?”

They listen, eventually, with a lot of strategic maneuvering, but they climb right up the wall instead and now Tooru’s just going to look slightly more like the crazy plant guy that Iwaizumi already probably thinks he is, but there are some things that can’t be helped when you have seventeen different species of plant in your house. At least they’re not swallowing his shower whole anymore. He sighs and turns towards the counter, gathering up crystals as quickly as he can. Air purifying, good luck (he’s clumsy in the shower), a couple of faden crystals for clear skin.

He tucks everything carefully away, shoving some sort of grey mushrooms back deeper into the drawer and snagging the pack of bobby pins he’s definitely been looking for since last week. He sighs in relief and pins back some of the stupidly long hair growing near his temples. 

He just wanted a little extra length but only the sides of his hair had been growing steadily for almost two weeks now and it was starting to look awkward. He doesn't know when his hair even got this long, even without the magic-ing bit.

Iwaizumi had actually pointed it out a few days ago, reaching up and flicking a wavy curl near the nape of Tooru’s neck, “You growing it out?”

He looks at himself in the mirror and— _shit,_ the mirror.

There are runes scribbled all over it in Expo marker. He pouts while he wipes them off because some of them were fucking hard to draw. You would think it wouldn’t so difficult to just watch the stars every once in awhile but no, runes up the ass to get the perfect view, good lighting, blah, blah, blah.

The main room plants protest while he carries them to his bedroom for safekeeping and several of his venus flytrap lobes go as far to snap—very slowly—at him. After he’s been so good to them, _honestly._ He’s in shock.

Another plant protests passionately from its place on the coffee table, unfurling and drooping limply when he so much as steps towards it with the intent to put it in his room.

“Okay, fine” he hisses, rubbing a thumb along a limp leaf. “Just behave, okay? Please? You Moraea are so _temperamental._ Iwa-chan is coming over.”

Several spindly leaves curl around his fingers and hold tight. When he pulls away the plant stretches with him, growing at least a few centimeters and Tooru gapes at it.

“How long have you been holding that one in?” he asks as he wiggles his fingers free. “How dramatic.”

Once that plant gets its way the others get shifty. There’s one specifically, a big, leafy, purple thing that was a gift from a Russian traveler. It’s far too big to begin with, more of a tree than a houseplant that sits in front of the window in the kitchen and it shudders spectacularly when he tries to heft the pot up into his arms. It has an attitude and Tooru has to plead for days to get a little piece of bark once in awhile. Moving it is even more offensive than that, apparently.

Tooru sets it down and crosses his arms, prepared to give a speech about how he just wants to have some _normal_ time with a _normal_ friend that doesn’t need to be interupted by far-too-sentient house plants, but a vine from a plant on the shelf next to his head tickles his ear and he scowls.

The kitchen is fine, Tooru guesses. There’s some stuff that has to stay where it is and as long as Iwaizumi doesn’t open any of the cabinets he should be fine. There are a few nondescript bottles tucked into the corner of the counter but it’s _fine._ They’re normal colors, Tooru thinks, so it’s alright. Tooru’s been less careful before and Iwaizumi still hasn’t noticed anything. Unless he has and just hasn’t said anything, which is a vaguely terrifying thought.

Miki is perched on top of her cat tower, looking down at him distastefully while he tries to school the main room’s bookshelf into some semblance of organization. A few of his newest additions aren’t quite settled and the pages ruffle loudly as he moves them around, letting loose bits and pieces of the words inside. One goes warm in his palm, pages curling at the corners and Tooru smiles, brushing his fingers along the spine and murmuring to it to hush for just a little bit.

“You guys stay still, too,” Tooru says firmly, turning around and waving a palm in front of the constellation chart. Every time he rolls it up they get grumpy and rearrange themselves and Tooru’s reading are off for weeks so he just _hopes_ it’ll behave. “Just until Iwaizumi is gone.”

“Where’s Rek?” Tooru asks the cat, reaching up and scratching under her chin.

She flicks her tail.

“You are supposed to know,” Tooru replies. “Because he’s your best friend even though he’s a bird.”

He yanks the window open and whistles once, short and sharp. There’s no response.

The apartment goes unusually quiet while he’s gathering up clusters of lavender that he left on the window sill. Iwaizumi is here, he's assuming, because the apartment is never quiet unless someone’s coming inside. He can feel everything going as still as possible, shivering in barely contained excitement. Tooru wants to remind the apartment that Iwaizumi is, if anybody’s, his boy and not theirs.

Tooru scoffs and sets the flowers on the counter, “Oh, now you guys are shy?”

When he pulls the door open Iwaizumi is standing there, hand raised like he was ready to knock with this expression like he’s _nervous._ Tooru is equally as nervous, if not moreso.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi breathes, unclenching his hand and offering a weird half-wave.

“Hi,” Tooru replies, holding the door open wider so Iwaizumi can step inside.

“How do you always know I’m here before I knock?” Iwaizumi asks, crouching in the genkan and wiggling his fingers towards the cat. “Hi, Miki.”

“She’s being a snot today,” Tooru says instead of answering. He raises his eyebrows at his familiar as she purrs and nudges her head into his hand.

“But you love her,” Iwaizumi says, looking up at Tooru from where he’s crouched. He’s got an eyebrow raised and this stupidly charming look on his face that’s knowing and amused. Tooru’s heart does something funny in his chest.

“I guess,” Tooru huffs. “I got pizza.”

There’s music playing from the speakers near the bookshelf that Tooru doesn’t think he put on but it’s appreciated. Iwaizumi is clever and quick witted and can eat an entire slice of pizza in three bites. Tooru suggests that they watch a movie but Iwaizumi’s face scrunches and he retracts it.

“Is it cool if we just talk?” Iwaizumi mumbles through a mouthful of food. “Is that weird?”

“Not at all,” Tooru says.

When he stretches his legs out under the table, they brush Tooru’s and he makes absolutely no effort to pull them away. He looks good, too, in Tooru’s apartment, on Tooru’s floor with his elbows on the coffee table and a smudge of pizza sauce on his cheek and two empty beer cans next to him. And they just talk. They talk about school, they talk about class, they talk about anything and everything and there aren’t any weird lulls in the conversation. When their backs get stiff they settle into the couch and the music goes soft and quiet, slow and deep. Iwaizumi notices, narrows his eyes and leans around Tooru to give the speakers a curious look.

“Did you switch the playlist?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Nope,” Tooru replies, waving a hand. “It’s just long and changes a bit in the middle. Keep talking.”

Iwaizumi is halfway into a detailed recount of the time he’d brought a cup of mac ‘n’ cheese to a party instead of beer when Tooru notices that the plant on a shelf somewhere behind Iwaizumi’s head curling towards him. Tooru looks around and quite a few of them are, actually. Everything is his apartment is privy to his feelings. They’re just feeding off his emotions which means that he really does like Iwaizumi and _that_ is _so_ gay. There’s a chart on the wall that barely ever moves but the corners are curled up and Castor and Pollux have abandoned the golden trays they’re supposed to be holding to crowd up as close as they can to the edge of the paper and stare dreamily at Iwaizumi as he talks. Tooru narrows his eyes at them and shakes his head very slowly to tell them to knock it off. They don’t. Castor brushes his hair off his forehead and slumps with his chin in his hands, not even looking away from the side of Iwaizumi’s head. Tooru can practically hear him sighing.

Iwaizumi has gone quiet as he glances around the apartment and smiles.

“I’m listening,” Tooru says with a smile.

“Fake smile,” Iwaizumi says, pointing at his face. “Don’t do that. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing!”

“You’re bullshitting me,” Iwaizumi says. “I can tell.”

“Really?” Tooru asks. “That’s weird. Obsessively cataloguing my facial expressions, Iwa-chan?”

“You’re just easy to read,” Iwaizumi says, looking around again. He points at one of Tooru’s star charts. “Is that poster moving?”

“Definitely not,” Tooru says quickly, reaching for Iwaizumi’s arm. “You’ve got a fuzz on your shirt.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t have a fuzz on his shirt but Tooru pretends to pick one off and uses the back of his hand to brush the tendrils of the floor plant in the corner away from where they’re curling towards Iwaizumi’s wrist. If his hand lingers and Iwaizumi’s eyes come up curiously, Tooru pretends not to notice and bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t smile.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says. He’s looking at Tooru again, steady and sure. His eyes drag down Tooru’s face, settle on his mouth and then flick back up.

“Yeah?” Tooru asks, suppressing a shiver when Iwaizumi brings a hand up and cups his jaw.

“Dunno,” Iwaizumi says, and then he’s leaning in and brushing the tips of their noses together, tipping his face barely forward and letting their mouths brush. Iwaizumi smells like beer and boy and the tiny herb bundles he’s been tucking into Iwaizumi’s jacket pockets. Rosemary and ginkgo. He finally kisses Tooru, then, and then it’s warm, parted lips and soft sighs. It’s Iwaizumi’s hand sliding into his hair, grabbing it, tugging and tipping Tooru’s face back while they learn how this works, how Iwaizumi’s mouth tastes, how broad his palms are against the sides of Tooru’s neck, the back of his head, cupping it. Iwaizumi sets his hand on the small of Tooru’s back, spreading his fingers and pulling Tooru closer. Then it’s Iwaizumi swallowing a groan as Tooru mouths at his jaw, the side of his neck. Iwaizumi cups his face again, pulls him back up and kisses him on the mouth. His fingers press into Tooru’s jaw, press it open so he can really kiss Tooru. Tooru melts into it, lets himself touch Iwaizumi wherever he wants. The hair at the nape of his neck, his shoulders, the warm expanse of his chest, the sides of his neck while they kiss and kiss. He lets Iwaizumi pull him into his lap, lets him push his hands under his shirt and kiss from his throat all the up to the soft spot behind his ear until he’s shaking and he can’t think anything other than how bad he _wants._

Suddenly Iwaizumi goes still. His mouth is still pressed against the curve of Tooru’s shoulders mouth and he mumbles, “Something’s going into my ear. Is that you?”

Tooru slits his eyes open and shudders when Iwaizumi’s mouth drags against the side of his neck. The plant on the shelf is stretched out ridiculously from where it sits, thin tendril wrapping around Iwaizumi’s ear.

“It’s a leaf,” Tooru says, voice thick. “Don’t stop. It’s just a leaf.”

“Your magic plants like me,” Iwaizumi says and he’s joking but Tooru’s heart skips in his chest and Iwaizumi leans back.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You just got really tense. Do you want to stop? Are you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Tooru blurts, grabbing the hair at the back of Iwaizumi’s head and tugging him closer. “I don’t want to stop.”

Iwaizumi hums and scrapes his teeth down the side of Tooru’s neck. “I thought it was you in my ear and I got a little concerned.”

“Don’t worry,” Tooru says, reaching up and brushing the plant away. “I’ll never stick anything in you without lots of consent and preparation. And lube.”

Iwaizumi snorts a loud laugh against his neck and it tickles.

“C’mere,” Tooru says, tugging at Iwaizumi’s hair. “Kiss me.”

By the time they break away, Tooru’s shivering in Iwaizumi’s lap and they’re both more than a little hard and it’s _good._ Iwaizumi looks happy and sated, slumped into the couch with a lazy grin on his face.

When Iwaizumi leaves later there’s no awkward goodbye or waving. Iwaizumi just reels him in by the front of his shirt and kisses him once, twice, presses him up against the wall and kisses him deep and slow and lingering until Tooru’s knees start to wobble.

“We’ll talk about your magic plants tomorrow,” Iwaizumi says with one last kiss, this time on the tip of Tooru’s nose. “Text me.”

Then he’s walking down the hallway towards the stairs and Tooru’s shutting the door behind him, leaning against it heavily, and sucking in a deep breath.

“So, there’s that,” Tooru says into his apartment. “Okay.”

Miki mewls from the other side of the room.

“I know,” Tooru wails, sliding down the door and curling his knees up to his chest. “He’s so _hot.”_

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
